Updated Oct 29, 2025 • ~10 min read
The diner had become their place.
Jane didn’t know when it happened—when Tuesday night dinners turned into a routine, when Gabriel stopped asking and just showed up at closing time, when she stopped protesting and started looking forward to it.
But somewhere between week four and week five of Gabriel’s stay in Seabrook Bay, it became the thing she thought about during slow afternoons at the bookstore. The thing that made the days feel less heavy.
Tonight was no different.
She locked up the bookstore at six, and Gabriel was waiting outside in his truck. Her truck, technically, since he’d basically given it to her after her car died. But she still thought of it as his.
“Hungry?” he asked when she climbed in.
“Starving. She’s been demanding carbs all day.” Jane patted her belly, now unmistakably round at twenty-two weeks.
“She has good taste. Diner it is.”
They drove the three blocks in comfortable silence. The kind of silence that didn’t need filling. That felt easy instead of awkward.
The diner was busy for a Tuesday—locals mostly, people finishing work, grabbing dinner before heading home. Tessa, the waitress who’d been working there since Jane arrived, waved them to their usual booth by the window.
“Your regular table,” she said with a knowing smile. “Decaf tea for you, coffee for him?”
“You know us too well,” Gabriel said.
“Honey, everyone in this town knows you two by now.” Tessa pulled out her order pad. “What’ll it be tonight?”
Jane ordered a burger and fries—the baby’s current obsession. Gabriel got the meatloaf.
After Tessa left, Jane caught Gabriel smiling.
“What?”
“Nothing. Just—you’re glowing.”
“I’m sweating. It’s hot in here.”
“No, you’re glowing. Pregnancy looks good on you.”
Jane felt her cheeks warm. “Stop.”
“I’m serious. You look healthy. Happy.” He paused. “Happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
The comment shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did. But Jane realized he was right. Despite everything—the fear, the exhaustion, the constant looking over her shoulder—she was happier.
Safer.
More herself than she’d been in years.
“I think I am happy,” she admitted quietly. “Or at least—I’m getting there.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
Their food arrived. They ate and talked—about the bookstore, about Gabriel’s resort project that was apparently going well, about the baby. Always about the baby now.
“Have you thought of names?” Gabriel asked, stealing one of her fries.
Jane swatted his hand. “A few. Nothing feels right yet.”
“What kind of names?”
“I don’t know. Something strong. Something that means she’s hers, not anyone else’s.” Jane traced patterns in the condensation on her glass. “My grandmother’s name was Eleanor. I keep coming back to that.”
“Eleanor’s beautiful.”
“But also heavy, you know? Like a lot to live up to.”
“Then use it as a middle name. Give her something else for first. Something—” Gabriel thought for a moment. “What about Iris? Or Clara? Something simple but strong.”
“Clara Eleanor.” Jane tested it. “I don’t hate it.”
“High praise.”
She kicked him gently under the table. He kicked back, grinning.
Across the diner, she caught Mallory from the library watching them with a soft smile. When Jane met her eyes, Mallory gave her a thumbs up.
Jane’s face burned. “People are staring.”
“Let them stare.”
“They think we’re together.”
“I know.” Gabriel didn’t seem bothered. “Does that bother you?”
“I—” Jane paused. Did it bother her? A month ago it would have terrified her. But now? “I don’t know.”
“For what it’s worth, there are worse things people could assume.”
“Like what?”
“Like that you’re alone. Like that you don’t have anyone.” His expression grew serious. “I’d rather them think you’re taken care of. That someone’s looking out for you.”
“You are looking out for me.”
“Yeah. I am.”
The way he said it—simple, matter-of-fact—made Jane’s chest feel tight.
They finished eating. Argued over the check—Gabriel won, as always. Walked out into the cool November evening.
The beach was a block away. Without discussing it, they both started walking toward it.
“I should go home,” Jane said, but she kept walking.
“Five minutes. The fresh air is good for the baby.”
They reached the beach—the same one where Gabriel had first found her. The bench where she’d felt the baby kick for the first time was empty. They sat.
The ocean was rough tonight, waves crashing against the rocks. The wind whipped Jane’s hair around her face. She should be cold, but Gabriel was close enough that she could feel his warmth.
“Can I ask you something?” Gabriel said after a moment.
“Depends what it is.”
“Why here? Why Seabrook Bay?”
Jane considered the question. “It was far enough. Small enough. Quiet enough. I saw it on a map and thought—that looks like somewhere you could disappear.”
“And you wanted to disappear.”
“I needed to. For the baby. For me.” She looked out at the water. “But also—my grandmother used to talk about Maine. About summers on the coast. I think part of me wanted to feel close to her. Even though she’s gone.”
Gabriel nodded slowly. “My mom loved the ocean too. She grew up in Cape Cod.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. She used to take us—me and David—to the beach every summer. Before she got sick.” His voice grew distant. “David hated it. Said it was boring. Too much sand. But I loved it.”
“What happened to her? Your mom?”
“Cancer. I was nineteen, David was twenty-three. She fought for two years.” Gabriel’s jaw tightened. “At the end, she made me promise to look out for David. To not let the family fall apart.”
“That’s not fair. That’s too much to ask a nineteen-year-old.”
“I know. But I promised anyway.” He looked at Jane. “I kept that promise for a long time. Showed up to family events even though I hated them. Tried to maintain some kind of relationship with David even though he’s—” Gabriel stopped. “But when you disappeared, when I realized what he’d done, I decided I was done. That promise died with you. Or—” A ghost of a smile. “So I thought.”
“I ruined your brotherly obligation.”
“You freed me from it.” Gabriel shifted to face her. “Do you regret it? Leaving?”
“No.” The answer was immediate. “Not even a little. I regret marrying him in the first place. Regret not seeing it sooner. But leaving?” She touched her belly. “Best decision I ever made.”
“Even though it meant losing everything?”
“I didn’t lose everything. I lost lies and people who didn’t really love me.” Jane met his eyes. “That’s not losing. That’s shedding dead weight.”
Gabriel smiled. A real smile. “When did you get so wise?”
“When I had to.” The baby kicked—hard. Jane winced.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, she’s just—” Another kick. “Really active tonight. Here—” Without thinking, Jane took Gabriel’s hand and placed it on her belly where the baby was moving.
Gabriel froze. “Are you sure?”
“She’s your niece. Technically. You should get to feel her.”
The baby kicked again, right under Gabriel’s palm.
His expression transformed. Wonder. Awe. Something else Jane couldn’t name.
“She’s so strong,” he whispered.
“She gets it from her grandmother. The original Eleanor.” Jane kept her hand over his, feeling the baby move between them. “She’s going to be fierce. I can tell already.”
“She’s going to be like you.”
“I hope so.” Another kick. “Sometimes I wonder what I’ll tell her. About her father. About why we’re here.”
“Tell her the truth. That you loved her enough to run. That you chose her over everything else. That’s all she needs to know.”
“What if she wants to find him someday? What if—”
“Then you deal with it when it happens. But right now, she’s safe. You’re safe.” Gabriel’s thumb moved in a gentle circle on her belly. “That’s what matters.”
They sat like that for a long moment—Gabriel’s hand on her stomach, Jane’s hand over his, the baby moving between them. Connected. All three of them.
Jane felt something shift inside her. Not the baby. Something deeper.
A wall cracking. A door opening. A defense dropping.
Oh no.
She pulled back gently. Gabriel’s hand fell away.
“I should go,” she said, standing too quickly. “It’s late. Work tomorrow.”
Gabriel stood too. “Jane—”
“Thank you. For dinner. For—” She gestured vaguely at the ocean, at the bench, at everything. “This.”
“Anytime.”
They walked back to the truck in silence. Gabriel drove her home, walked her to her door like he always did.
“Goodnight,” Jane said, already unlocking her door, needing to get inside, needing space.
“Jane, wait—”
She turned. Gabriel was standing on the landing, hands in his pockets, looking like he wanted to say something important.
“What?” Her voice came out harsher than she meant.
Gabriel studied her face. Whatever he saw there made him step back. “Nothing. Just—sleep well.”
“You too.”
Jane went inside, locked the door, and leaned against it.
Her heart was racing. Her hands were shaking. The place where Gabriel had touched her belly still felt warm.
She walked to her bed, lay down fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling.
I’m in trouble.
The thought was clear. Unavoidable. Terrifying.
Because somewhere between coffee and conversation, between ultrasound appointments and diner meals, between his hand on hers and his hand on her daughter—
She’d started to care about Gabriel Astor.
More than care.
She was falling for him.
For the way he showed up without being asked. For the way he listened without judging. For the way he looked at her daughter on that ultrasound screen like she was already precious. For the way he made Jane feel seen in a way she’d never been seen before.
For him.
And that was impossible. Dangerous. Stupid.
He was David’s brother. He’d leave eventually. Go back to his real life, his real world, where she didn’t exist.
This—whatever this was—wasn’t real. It was proximity and pregnancy hormones and gratitude misplaced as something more.
It had to be.
Because the alternative—that this was real, that Gabriel actually cared about her, that maybe, impossibly, he might feel the same way—
That was too much to hope for.
Jane rolled onto her side, hand on her belly, and felt the baby kick.
“We’re in trouble,” she whispered. “I think I’m falling in love with your uncle. How stupid is that?”
The baby kicked again. Agreement, maybe. Or warning.
Jane closed her eyes and tried to sleep.
She dreamed of Gabriel’s hand on her stomach. Of his smile in the diner. Of the way he’d looked at her like she was something worth fighting for.
She dreamed of possibilities she couldn’t let herself want.
And when she woke up the next morning, nothing had changed.
She was still falling.
And she still had no idea what to do about it.
Reader Reactions